Tasting the Earth

This entry is dedicated to my two favorite Italian American farmers: Anthony Caltabiano Jr. & Sr. and their distant relatives, who I am sure I met today. (The Caltabianos taught me to taste the earth, and then the green bean, an experience with food I will never forget!)

This morning, Grandma Caltabiano's 3rd cousin helped me choose my eggplant, zucchini, apples, spinach, sage and oregano plants, onions and tomatoes. As the money exchanged and she was about to hand me my bags she told me to wait (in a demanding but sweet tone) and she started adding a maripoix to my bag: 1 carrot, 1 celery stick, assorted herbs (lots of Italian parsley). I tried to offer her some more money but she wouldn't accept it! I think I've made a friend.

It helps to come to the market before everyone is open (I had been awake since before the first cargo van arrived, waiting, with my cup of coffee, like it was Christmas). It also helps to choose the stalls on the side streets because you know there is a premium to have a place in the square. Those people don't have to be nice to customers.

Markets have got to be my favorite places to visit while traveling, anywhere. Not because I love to shop (I don't) but because I love the characters involved-such showmanship on every one's part, both buyers and sellers. They are the same in every country-with minor nuances. This market is every Saturday in the square outside my window. The caravans have incredible awnings that make the square one giant patchwork tent by 8am.

I'm making several trips, the first was for my veggies, before the other vendors were even set up. The second time around, I purchased basic necessities for living the next two months with a clean face and hair (ever tried figuring out which product to purchase when the packaging is in a language you don't know? Lets hope some of them are all purpose!)

Third trip, was my most delicious, the calamaro (or calamari as you Americans like to call it). Tre, gratzie! I'm almost sure he asked me if I wanted them cleaned but I declined, what and take all the fun out of it?! The raw calamaro is for tonight's dinner and then I ordered some of the fried, which was just coming off the fire at 9 am. I'm here to tell you that fried calamari for breakfast is delicious. Next door to the fishmonger is the formaggio maker and then the butcher, where chickens are rotating on the spit as he takes orders for slices of the already roasted pig that is sprawled out in front of him on a giant cutting board. Belly down and feet (hooves?) still attached, who wants the snout? How about the right buttock, with or without, the leg attached?

Eating my calamari on the steps of the piazza, I feel like I won't need to apply lipgloss any time soon. I'm people watching, actually, I'm old, Italian, men watching as the square is full of them congregating in groups of four. Ah ha! Just figured out where the women are. They are shopping in the market, one piazza over, while the men are avoiding it at all costs! Isn't it wonderful? Men and women are all alike, everywhere.

Have a Moment

Has a moment ever taken your Breath away? I mean literally, to the extent that you are choking because air has escaped you? Then, when you think you are on the verge of needing help, your body starts to cry, great, big, gasping sobs? I assume this is the body's natural means of jump starting what should be a involuntary action, but I'm not a doctor so I can only assume.

I thought about including a picture of what I was seeing when this happened but I chose not to for two reasons: 1. a picture could not possibly do it justice, and 2. I don't think it was just the view that I was experiencing.

I'd been stuck in my apartment all day, reading and researching, trying to ignore the fact that Cortona looked exactly like Seattle on a cold and dreary February day. The fog was really thick and only the tourists, with their brightly colored umbrellas, were out in this soup. Then, out of the fog, came the Tuscan sun at about 6pm, a perfect time to quit working and pick-up some pasta to go with my earthy spinach (spinach like you have never tasted before-might as well be a different vegetable.)

A lovely woman at the small pasta shop gave me a helping for 1-uno-without me asking, or her inquiring about the amount (I suppose I could have taken offense, but maybe word has gotten around!!) gnocchi and rague to go-gratzie! As I departed the shop 10 doors down from my apartment, I took the round-about way home- curious to see if the sun was just a mirage.

As I rounded the corner where my favorite backyard garden grows, with juicy purple grapes weighing down their vines, my breath was taken away. The fog was burning off into the mountains leaving the valley basking in the Tuscan sun that bounced off the terra cotta tiles of S. Maria Nuovo, setting all ablaze. The church bells from S. Margherita started ringing and the silver olive trees glistened from the new rains, the air smelled earthy and freshly washed, and the sun was warm and sweet. I was overwhelmed, then the sobs came to my rescue.

After recovering from my chest pains, I headed to Spar to pick-up my Sangiovese di Toscana and my cioccolate al peperoncion, or chilli pepper chocolate ice cream. I'm going to try and create another moment with a fantastic dinner. If that doesn't do it, my first Cortona Food Market tomorrow morning might! I promise pictures next time.

Buonasera


PS This was not the first moment in my life where my breath has been stolen. Perhaps you've had a similar experience: holding you child for the first time, sky-diving, summitting, saying goodbye to someone you love. If you care to share your moment, I welcome your comments.

Practicing Stillness

I was practicing stillness today - not meditation, but just stillness. Took a walk to the gardens without my camera or pen and journal, sat on a bench overlooking the valley, and folded my body in on itself, the way I've seen Reece (my 4 year old mutt back home.) do when he is preparing to be still, yet alert.

The sun was out and casting shadows through the leaves on the trees that were shading me. Like Reece, I closed my eyelids gently but continued to see and feel the sun's rays on my face and see the shadows dancing from behind my eyelids, my ears were still open and I was fully aware of the sounds of children giggling and water splashing in the fountain. I let my mind wander from thought to thought: Cortona's beauty, friends and family, to do lists, lunch today... After 10 minutes or so -I'm not wearing a watch so I can't be certain-I was ready to get on with it! My own voice stopped me and said, "No-sit with this, practice."

It's clear to me I've developed some bad habits that helped me cope through law school and grieving, but were now a hindrance on vacation.

Flip, the wise man, who said this trip was pretty much a no brainer (not his exact words but definitely his sentiments) told me that after 2 weeks my knotted muscles would let go of themselves, and after 3 weeks I wouldn't recognize my body. I can already see some transformation after 5 days.

It has started in my eyes. They appear simpler, relaxed, and open, not strained, chaotic, tired. Occasionally, I'll find my shoulders are not at my ears and my neck has more mobility, and I wonder for how long they have allowed themselves this break from being on guard.

My body is far from a full transformation. There still feels as if there is a 16" softball stuck between my shoulder blades; I still find my butt muscles clenched; and I still forget to breath sometimes. Still Practicing-Yet to Master!

Forced Practicing - My voltage converter decided to leap out of my hand today and land on the hard, terra cotta floor, no harm done to the floor but the converter suffered a terrible knock-out. The writing I had put off till today will now be further delayed. A sign from the universe to keep practicing.

Grocery Shopping in Cortona

Beautiful sunrise this morning, now at noon, completely overcast and chilly, Seattle weather. (Pictures are from outside my bedroom balcony.) Don’t worry, I brought the lightweight, North Face pullover so they can spot the foreigner immediately.

Grocery day. I was really disappointed that I got in so late to Cortona so I missed the market in the square. So I’m left to go to several stores to find my wares. Those of you who have traveled to Europe will recognize my first stop, the two others were local.

First, Spars- milk, yogurt, water, juice, fig jam, sugar, coffee, and a moderately priced bottle of olive oil from the Chianti region (7 Euro, roughly $10); the oil was the most expensive item on my list – priorities.

Deli down the block, Parmesan cheese, of course it had a more specific name, but I have no idea what it is, I was just shooting in the dark. Tomatoes on the vine, more peaches

Hardware Shop next door– vino key, of course it’s not called this, but this is the phrase I used, along with gesture of opening wine, to make the purveyor laugh, correct me, and point me to several different wine openers to choose from. Laugh all you want, it got the job done!

Back to Spars for two bottles of wine: Sant Antimo, a Pinot Grigio from Montalcino (an area next door to Cortona I plan to explore with dad), and Lume, a Sangiovese also from Montalcino. I’m saving the white for sunset but drinking a glass of the red with lunch.

I’m having an early lunch today because I was up at 5am SKYP-ing and I hope to find some sun and people watch in the square while Italians go on their real lunch break from 2-4. It’s Monday and a lot of the tourists have cleared out so it feels like the authentic Cortona. For instance, kids were standing outside the bus stop waiting to go to school.

Lunch today is a poor man’s (woman’s) version of the bruchetta I had last night for dinner at Pane e Vino. I’m treating myself on Sundays. (I can hear my mother saying – “aren’t you treating yourself just by being there?” Yes – but I spent money on dinner last night and I won’t do that every night.) The bruchetta was very different: first it was warm and swimming in olive oil. One slice was Parmesan cheese with a roasted tomato, and the other was a fontina with shredded radicchio, seasoned with just a little salt and pepper. It doesn’t take much seasoning as a lot of the cheeses are salty and the olive oil has so much flavor. All of this was priced at 3.50 Euros ($5) and I could have done just this with my glass of wine but I felt embarrassed and ordered pasta (more about that later.) So that’s what I’m doing today for lunch- my tomato, olive oil, and formaggio with a glass of red wine, and a peach for dessert. Heaven continues.

Planning a “Typical Day in the Life”

Why bother, you might ask. Didn’t I come to Italy to escape the typical day? Yes. But one needs a little structure; this is a working holiday after all. And a “typical” day in Tuscany, is unlike any typical day in Seattle and that’s what really matters.

Here’s my loose plan:

5 am Skype chat with friends and family in US

6 Sunrise walk around city, great meditative moment

7:30 Coffee on balcony, more meditation and planning the day, people spying in square

8:30 Time to write-Blog, Book, Postcards

1-2 Lunch – walk around town, sun on steps

2-4 Language lessons

4 Nap

5-8 Free time, writing, reading, swimming, painting, bike, whatever spirit moves me to do

8 Dinner and more reading

10 Bed

That’s the “typical day plan,” subject to spirit moving me (or Labor strikes!) So far, I’ve just been trying to get over jetlag, so I’m sleeping and eating whenever. Today is the first day I am doing the “plan.” I’ve attached photos of my morning walk. I ventured outside the city wall to see Chiesa di Santa Maria Nuova, then back in the city wall to see, Basilica di Santa Margherita, Chiesa di San Niccolo, and Chiesa di San Francesco. I know- sounds like a lot of churches, but that’s not even half of them. Yesterday I saw: Chiesa di San Cristoforo, San Marco, San Domenico, San Sebastiano, and San Agostino. Tomorrow I will visit San Antonio to pay homage for all the work he has done for me over the years. (If you lose your mind, or your keys, Saint Anthony is your Patron Saint!)

I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be doing whatever I want. Blissful really. The only responsibility I have is to myself. Well, not quite true, but almost. I have to stay within a budget (in order to pay those school loans come December); I have to keep in touch with friends; and I have to write. But the freedom to do these things whenever I want, is unbelievably refreshing. When things get done is unimportant. When I eat, when I wake up, when I decide to work. It won’t hurt anyone if I wake up at 1 am and write, or walk around the city at 5 am with the dog walkers. Just the freedom to do things when you want to, is a great gift. Time is a tricky thing, it flies by when you over schedule it, but when you just let it do its thing, there seems to be plenty to spare. This wisdom, I will export back to my new life.

First Evening in Cortona

My apartment won’t be ready till tomorrow (Sunday), so Andrea (a man not a woman) has put me in the fanciest hotel in Cortona – S. Michele (ironic I know). Schlepping my bags through the door, it is apparent to everyone in suits, that I don’t belong. What a riot. There are a lot of suits, something is going on, TV cameras in the square and a stage. Apparently the Democratic Party is in town for the weekend doing a number of seminars on global and local politics and Italy’s role in it all. I couldn’t join in, I was beat and had to rest my weary muscles, so I missed the hoopla.

Time to venture out into my new city. It is flooded with tourist –Italian and everyone else. I strolled the streets in a simple brown dress and scarf around my shoulders; the Suits in the lobby, gave me the nod; I bet they wonder if I’m the same smelly, backpacker who entered. It appeared that all the big wigs from the D. Party were staying at my hotel, or I was staying at theirs, love it! Back to strolling down the main street, via Nazionale (the only flat street in Cortona), ending just outside the city’s Etruscan wall; Piazzale Garibaldi over looks the entire Tuscan countryside. Stunning and dramatic, as the thunderstorms are off in the distance and the glow of the sun setting highlights the orange tiled roofs. The blues, greens, yellows and oranges all pop.

Cortona is set on a hill, more like a mountain, looking down on olive groves on tiers of land, villas with swimming pools, down to the very bottom in the valley littered with farms, and in the background, the ghostlike mountains which are populated with vineyards. Lake Trasimeno is also off in the near distance peaking around a mountain. It’s breathtaking and a little chilly. I wasn’t the only one enjoying the view and soon I was engaged in a political conversation with an Italian from the Democratic Party, who learned English in Dublin. Just imagine, an Italian accent with an Irish lilt, priceless. I was relieved and overjoyed at the offer to have dinner with an English speaking Italian (politics, stereotypes, and world travel were all on the menu.); it reminded me that I hadn’t had a real conversation since I left Chicago (thank you Nora, your 15 min. phone call was a great belly laugh and it lasted me 3 days!)

I think after this trip I may be ready for my 10 day, silent, Buddhist, retreat. I am butchering the language, but I am trying. I do have Italian lessons on CD that I plan to practice every afternoon from 2-4, since I recognize I can’t get by with “I’ll take one of those, and one of that, and a few of these” for three months! I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m in a cave. I’m not. I have a beautiful balcony on my apartment that looks down on Teatro Signorelli (the theater) and Piazza Signorelli (a great hang-out for the Townies); from here I spy on the locals. I sit in the sun on the steps of the Palazzo del Capitano del Popolo watching Cortona go by in the Piazza della Repubblica. But enough, more about a “typical day in the life”, that is of course, when I finally have one. Ciao. xoxo

P.S. Talking about Obama with foreigners still amazes me; quick quiz: what’s the name of the Italian President and what party does he belong to? Feel free to comment.

Italy REALLY needs labor mediators!

Okay this is now getting slightly absurd. Saturday morning at the Florence train station, headed to Cortona, I purchase my ticket, turn around and find the departure board, and it is systematically canceling trains. Most are still going express to Rome and Milan but none are going to stop in Cortona (at least not till 1:30pm.) It’s 9am and Italian announcements are being made, the audience is groaning, and the foreigners are looking confused. But I’m an expert now in cancelations and this is feeling familiar. A pleasant, British woman comes on over the PA to translate my Italian fears, “The following trains will be canceled today due to a strike of the staff of RFI. We apologize for this drawback.” Drawback, is that the right word? Setback, yes, it most definitely is, but drawback? Do they mean the same thing? Seemed like a funny word to use, but regardless it was time to sit and wait, again. Like airlines in the states, they don’t cancel all of the trains at once, they make you get excited about reading the board in hopes that your’s might be spared, only to then be crushed when 20 minutes before scheduled departure time, it is “officially” canceled.

Bear with me as I try and think through this labor “drawback.” Why strike on a Saturday? Doesn’t seem like much of a threat to employers; striking on a day off. No statewide businesses are affected, really only the train company which is probably state owned and tourism of course. Workers on their days off, who were planning on a holiday this weekend in the countryside, are affected. But big business won’t be affected. So, seems like a stupid day to choose. Of course everything was back to normal on Sunday. Screwy. Maybe they need a labor negotiator instead of a mediator.